


Help Yourself

by CharlieBradbury



Series: Bitchfits and Best Friends; Earth's Mightiest Heroines [1]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Porn With Plot, Rule 63, everyone in the universe because I'm just that dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieBradbury/pseuds/CharlieBradbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that a good orgasm tends to put most people right to sleep.  So when Stella Rogers gets fed up with how little Tony Stark seems to actually sleep (passing out on the work bench next to still operating machinery does not count no matter what Iron Woman claims) she decides to take matters into her own hands.</p><p>She may have forgotten about Tony's weird obsession with paying people back for their favors.  But she's glad to reap the rewards.</p><p>(I genderbent everyone so I could write girly porn.  That is the plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thank You

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Stella says as she’s allowed into the workshop. The AI thoughtfully turns down the volume on Tony’s thudding noise-or music as she likes to call it-as the super soldier picks her way carefully through the workdesks and piles of questionable material.

“If you’re here to drop off some food, my hands are filthy and I’m pretty sure if I try to eat I’ll infect myself with something horrible. So you’ll have to hand feed me-oh it’s you.” Tony finally turns from the thing she’s bent over to see Stella standing behind her, arms crossed and calm fury in her blue eyes. “The Nap-Nanny. Well I’m about two hours from finishing this up. So you can either pop a squat or leave, because I am not-“

“Three days Tony.” Stella’s voice cuts her off. “Three days since you’ve slept. Except that one time you passed out next to the blowtorch that was still on. And that was for five minutes.”

Looking to the ceiling, Tony mutters, “Traitor. Tattletale.” Jarvis makes a noncommittal humming noise.

Stella keeps going. “What if there was an attack right now? What if Dr. Doom decided to use giant butterflies to destroy the Pentagon? What if-“

“What if you guys stopped nagging me for a while? I’d probably get more work done!” Tony nearly shouts, turning her back on Stella. Bad idea.

“You are not going to ignore me, Stark.” Stella grabs her shoulders, pushes her down into the neglected chair behind her, and rolls her back from the table. Tony makes a grab for the edge of the table, but just ends up flailing at empty space. “Go to bed, or I’ll carry you to the training room and let Claire use you for target practice with one of her tranq arrows.”

Tony smirks up at her. “Ooh, being manhandled by the Gal with a Plan, hot! But sorry Cap, I uh. I can’t,” she admits quietly.

Stella rolls her eyes. “Yes you can, you have to be exhausted.”

“Well yeah, duh, but ah. Insomnia’s a bitch you know?”

Sighing, Stella remembers reading something about that in Tony’s file. She wants to beat herself over the head for forgetting it. But every time Tony would lock herself downstairs for days at a time, Pepper would just storm down in his pressed suit and shined shoes and force Tony back into the world. Stella had hoped that this time, she would be able to do it before the CEO/exboyfriend had to be called in by the AI/babysitter. Suddenly, she’s aware of the silence hanging in the air. “Oh. Sorry,” she says after a too-long pause.

“It’s okay. As it stands, there’s really nothing for it but to keep working until I pass out.”

Stella realizes she still has her hands on Tony’s shoulders when she feels the woman shift around a little. Something keeps her hands right where they are. It’s the same something that has her looking down carefully at the other woman and fighting back the urge to either rib her some more or kiss her. “Anything I can do to help?”

Tony chuckles darkly. “Not really. I mean, usually a good lay’s enough to conk me out when I get like this. But unless you’re offering, I guess I should get back to work.” Running a dirty hand through her short black hair, Tony looks out across her workshop. Five projects are completely finished; Jarvis is running analysis on them now. Just this one remains, with its wiring being much more of a pain in the ass than it has any right to-“Huh.”

Stella doesn’t still the hand that she’s softly running down Tony’s arm. “Maybe I should take this one for the team,” she says softly. “After all, we’d really suffer during a battle if you’re too busy napping to help out.” Stella leans down, and Tony gets a good look at the earnest determination on her face, and the deep blush blooming down her neck. And bursts into loud laughter. Stella freezes up, looking down at her incredulously. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Tony gasps out. “You just…you have that same look on your face when we’re sparring. It…well you know without the adorable blush.” She takes a moment to breathe deeply. “We really need to keep you away from Claire, I think she’s infecting you with her horrible sense of humor.” Tony makes to stand up, but Stella holds her in place with both hands on her stomach.

“I’m serious, Tony.” She slides her hands down, massaging the tense muscles of the billionaire’s thighs. “You say this is what you need. I want to help.”

“You want. To help me get off?” Tony asks, her dark brown eyes looking up questioningly. “I mean, you do understand what I’m saying right, this isn’t a case of you thinking I need like, a massage or something and offering to finger me until I’ve got all my knots worked out-“

“I’m not that clueless, Nate’s been helping me figure things out.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah you’ve been getting cultural education from the most unbalanced superspy I’ve ever met. Somehow I’m less than assured.”

Stella scowls down at Tony. “Orgasms relax the body and relieve stress. Some people don’t feel the same results when it’s masturbation. Thor and I read about it.” Tony chortles, thinking about Stella Rogers and the Lady of Lightning flipping through sexual academic journals. “If what you need is sex, it’d be best if it was me. I mean, it won’t do anything to team dynamics or anything. This is hardly the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked from me,” she concludes with an arched eyebrow.

Honestly, Tony’s mostly impressed that Stella managed to say all that with a straight face and nary a blush in sight. She closes her eyes and tries to organize the fifty-million-mile-an-hour thoughts cycling through her mind. How many times has she fantasized about this exact thing? “Mm, Cap,” she says weakly. “You are the best teammate ever. You just bumped Thor out of first place for my favorite. What’s that do to your team dynamics?”  
Laughing shortly, Stella presses a kiss to the side of Tony’s neck. “I thought Lucy was your favorite.”

“She’s my science sister, that’s a hah, a different bond y’know.” Stella huffs a breath at the attempt of a joke. “Bond, get it-jeezus,” Tony wheezes as Stella runs her fingers lightly over her clothed groin.

Suddenly, Stella freezes her fingers. “Is this okay? I mean, if you were just joking you should say so. I know you like to flirt with anything with a pulse. It’s hard to tell if you mean it sometimes.”

Tony rolls her eyes out of reflex. Count on Cap to be crazy about consent. “Like I would turn you down. I feel like I’d be letting my country down.” Stella doesn’t answer her as she presses down more with her middle finger. Tony rocks forward a little, gasping as the pressure lands on her clit. “Mm, yeah,” she mumbles. Digging her short nails into the arms of the chair, she forces herself not to reach down and move Stella’s hands like she wants her to. “A-ah!” Stella smiles into her shoulder as she scratches her finger nail along the seam of her jeans a few times. Her other hand moves up from Tony’s thigh along her tensing stomach. She cups one breast, giving it a light squeeze before circling a nipple with her thumb through the thin fabric of Tony’s tee shirt.

Stella has to bite down on her lip to keep from babbling to Tony about how beautiful she is like this; her eyelids fluttering, color rising in her cheeks, her mouth gaping open as she scrabbles for breath. “God, Stella-“ Tony chokes out. “You can-I’m not gonna break, c’mon!” she pleads. A rush of desire shudders through Stella. She pinches her nipple-hard-and Tony gasps like she’s just come out of deep water. Encouraged, Stella abandons the light touches and presses down on Tony, mindful of the thick seams. She alternates between rubbing furiously and sliding further down to push teasingly against Tony’s entrance through the denim.

Muttering crazily, Tony thrusts against her hands. The words are too low and spoken too fast for Stella to hope to understand them. Chanting, “There, there, there, fuck, there!” Tony arches backwards, turning the kiss Stella had been mouthing into her neck into a harsh bite. She gasps one last time, letting the breath out with a strained hiss as Stella works her through her orgasm. “Shit,” she laments, flopping back into the chair bonelessly. Stella wraps her arms around her shoulders in an odd embrace. Tony’s head lolls back onto the blond’s bicep, breathing deeply through her nostrils. They sit like this for a few moments. Stella feels like her heartbeat is pounding in her clit, her skin electrified wherever she touches Tony. Tony-for her part-feels heavy in a way that doesn’t make her think of crashing into unforgiving concrete.

She yawns unexpectedly. Stella chuckles, and then straightens up while spinning Tony’s chair around. The genius looks up at her blankly. Offering her hand, Stella says in her flattest voice. “There, you’ve gotten your ‘help.’ Bedtime, Stark.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Tony says with a chuckle and a genuine smile on her lips. The sight of it makes Stella’s chest feel tight, and the good-natured smile on her own face feel fake.  
 


	2. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns the favor.

Days later, the team recuperates after a considerably awful mission. Hill had verbally reamed them for their failings in the field; Fury had just glared menacingly over the video comm with all her omniscient rage bearing down on them. She didn’t say a single word before cutting the connection. Everyone was glad to be rid of the conference room, filing out of it silently.

A short Quinjet ride later and they were quietly retreating to their individual wind-down activities. Thora finds a (reinforced, with enlarged number buttons) phone and rings Jake while emptying the fridge. Nathaniel and Claire surreptitiously disappear into the city to do things that no one wants to contemplate. Lucy hides herself in the library, and no one asks why Jarvis lights up the fireplace there despite the fact that it’s May. Tony takes a long, long shower, and asks Jarvis to prep her workshop for a short burst of post-adrenaline-high designing before she passes out in one of her roomier roadsters. Scrubbing her hair with a huge towel, she stumbles into an elevator and almost trips into Stella.

“Oh, uh hey.”

“Hi Tony,” Stella answers quietly, flashing a brief smile as she steadies Tony’s shoulders. “Heading down to the workshop?”

“Yeah, gotta shut my brain up before I can take a nap of epic proportions.” Tony takes in Stella’s sweats and loose tee shirt. “Going to the gym?”

Stella seems to realize she’s been gripping Tony’s shoulders for far too long and lets them go as if she’s been stung. “Uh yeah.” She smiles wryly. “I’m not quite to the epic nap stage yet.”

Tony grins back at her carelessly, but internally she’s running the numbers. The last two times they had a mission go south, she knows for a fact that Stella didn’t get any rest until the next night. Which for Captain America- someone who acts like she’s on military time-is the equivalent to one of Tony’s four day benders. Sure she usually only gets four hours of sleep a day but they’re the same hours every day unless they have a mission or something. The elevator stops soundlessly, and Stella walks out. On a whim, Tony calls out after her, “Hey, mind if I come up? I can do this sort of stuff from a couple of tablets.”

Stella turns and considers her, brows furrowed and eyes searching. “Sure. It’s your house after all,” she says evenly.

Once in the lab, Tony hurriedly gathers up three of her favorite tablets, a bottle of whiskey, a couple of schematics, puts the whiskey down, grabs a few components that need tweaking, takes a swig of the whiskey with a grimace, and puts the components back before turning for the elevators. On the ride up, she stares at her disheveled reflection in the stainless steel doors.

Her ACDC tee is relatively stainless, only marred by a few singe marks from when Dummy had been a little slow with the fire extinguisher the one time it would have been handy. Her jeans are loose around the legs and crotch, a few scuff marks on the pockets and knees. Her chin length hair is damp and sticking up at odd angles, her skin is still a little red from her shower. A few bruises are blooming on her cheek bone and her forearms. She really needs to fix the cushioning problem in the Mach V. She’s just as skinny as she’s always been; her former diet of hors d’oeuvres and cocktails hard for her body to forget. She looks like she’s ready to spend a few hours in the workshop with no one to judge her appearance but herself and Jarvis (Dummy wouldn’t know what fashion was even if Tony tried to program her to recognize such a thing).

She really shouldn’t be fussing about her looks. It’s just Stella, after all. She wouldn’t care what Tony was wearing as long as she wasn’t streaking around the city nude. That would earn the billionaire an hour long lecture about good PR. Jarvis lets Tony know that they have reached the gymnasium and pauses a few seconds before opening the door. She takes those scant moments to smooth out her worried brow and slap a Cap-worthy grin on her face. Which falls immediately when she takes stock of the room.

A treadmill is smoking. The weights lay in a twisted pile. There are three destroyed punching bags slumped against the wall. Stella slugs away at a fourth with a blind determination. She doesn’t acknowledge Tony as she enters the room, clutching her equipment to her stomach.

“Good God, Rogers,” Tony mutters as she walks slowly to a set of chairs on the opposite side of the room. She sets her things down, watching as Stella pounds away at the reinforced equipment. A fine sheen of sweat makes her movements blur together. “What, did the punching bags insult Obama or something?”

Stella finally looks up, startled. She holds the punching bag steady as she breathes deeply a few times. “Just uh, just a little riled up from the fight.”  
Tony stares at her as if disbelieving every single word, and nods. “Yeah, it was pretty vicious today. Animated flowers that spit poison that makes the victim hallucinate that they’re underwater, defended by bees made of titanium, it sucked. But-” Tony punctuates with a pointed finger, “-we figured out that the Hulk was unaffected and sent her in and wham, bam, thank you ma’am, they’re smashed into compost. Sure, the length of time the civilians were affected was unfortunate, but everyone calmed down eventually. Day saved, not one casualty, the only bad thing was the ah, emotional damage done-“

“We should have done better,” Stella growls.

“Cap, we did the best we could. As always,” Tony scoffs. “I was fine, filtered air and all. You were down for like two minutes, Nate and Claire had to find some gasmasks and Thor was busying trying to hammer some imaginary squid into submission.”

“Exactly, we’d known going in that the airborne toxins were the problem, I should have-“

“And then Lucy just stomped all over them and we just had the bees to worry about.”

“People were frightened out of their wits, Tony. We-”

“They’re New Yorkers, they should be used to this shit happening-”

“No one,” Stella shouts, “should be used to this!” The tone in her voice snaps Tony’s jaw shut. Stella glares at her for a moment before continuing. “This sort of thing should not be a part of a civilian’s daily routine. That’s the point isn’t it? For all of us to group together to fight off things that normal people would have no chance at beating. So why should we bother, if the people still suffer?” She lets go of the punching bag, and sand begins spilling from the holes her fingers bore through the material. “Shoot,” she says softly, reaching up to unhook the ruined bag.

“Rogers,” Tony starts gently, stepping forward loudly so she doesn’t surprise Stella by accident. “I know how much you hate it when the civilians get involved in this sort of business. But it couldn’t have been avoided. We stopped it before it spread; we stopped it from hurting other people.” Stella tosses the bag with the others carelessly. “I’ve got a group from S.H.I.E.L.D. psych department putting up tents around the area for counseling. We’re doing what we can. We did the best we could.”

“You’ve got agents out there counseling people?” Stella asks in disbelief.

“Well yeah. Even Thora was a little shaken up by the squids; I couldn’t imagine how well the kid at Starbucks was handling it.”

“Oh.” Stella looks up sheepishly at Tony, who stands only a foot away from her. They share a moment of tense silence, and Stella feels the urge to fight drain away. She turns abruptly and drops down heavily on one of the comfortable couches that seem to populate every single room. “Sorry, Tony.”

Tony follows her path to the couch, standing in front of her with a strange expression creasing her brow. Slowly she drops to her knees, leaning her head on crossed forearms on Stella’s thighs. “Hey, remember that thing you did for me in the workshop last week? I want to return the favor. Ah, orally.” Stella looks down at her uncertainly, a light blush creeping across her features. Tony doesn’t say anything else, refusing to try her patented ‘convince someone to let me give them head’ speech. Stella considers her options carefully, trying not to dwell too deeply on how the gentle pressure Tony applies is going straight to her gut.

“Well, it’s only fair. Isn’t it?” she says with a forced calmness. Tony rolls her eyes at her.

“Gosh, don’t want to inconvenience you,” she gripes as she runs her hands lightly up Stella’s thighs. Stella huffs weak laughter at her, watching Tony press her thumbs into the dip of her hipbones. She cants her hips up into the touch, feeling the heat of Tony’s hands through the thin material of her shirt. Suddenly, Tony moves forward, pressing her mouth onto Stella’s mound. Tony breathes out slowly, warmth spreading from her open mouth. Stella gasps as her hips jerk upwards reflexively. Tony sits back and gives the side of Stella’s hip a light swat. Stella grins and angles her body up so Tony can pull off her pants and underwear.

Tony stares for a short moment before cutting straight to the chase. Stella yelps when her clit is assaulted by Tony’s flickering tongue. “T-Tony-“ Stella wants to tell her to back off a little, but Tony seems to figure it out herself. She slides down, tonguing Stella’s entrance lightly. Stella sighs and relaxes, slumping a little further into the couch. Unsure what to do with her hands, she lays them by her thighs, palms up. Tony uses most of the tricks she knows-except those ones she got from that roller derby chick, she doesn’t want to break Captain America the first time she goes down on her-and soon enough Stella’s biting back moans and twitching.

“Stella,” Tony says quietly as she backs off just a few inches. “You don’t have to hold back. That’s what this is all about, right?” Stella looks down at her, uncertain again. “It’s okay, being directed is kind of a turn-on for me.” Tony gently takes one of Stella’s hands-long fingered and muscled and God if Tony could ever manage to get those inside her-and places a silent kiss on her knuckles. “Go wild, Cap.”

She angles her mouth back down, letting go of Stella’s hand to dig dull nails into the thick thighs framing her face. Gradually, Tony devotes more and more of her attentions on the little nub. She almost jumps when she feels Stella’s hand rest heavily on the back of her head. She moans approvingly as sure fingers wind themselves in her hair and keep her steady. She sucks hard, almost coming in her pants from the way Stella’s fingers tighten and push her forward. Her tongue flicks down, rapidly beating against the sensitive flesh sucked between her lips. Stella’s hips snap forward against Tony’s face and she shouts as she throws her head back. Tony can’t do anything; she’s pressed between Stella’s legs as the super soldier rides out her orgasm. She slowly relinquishes her grip on Tony’s hair. Tony rocks back on her heels, stretching out her jaw before wiping off her mouth.

“Haven’t done that in a while,” she says casually.

“Well damn, Tony,” Stella breathes out, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Tony smiles self-indulgingly before saying in a singsong voice, “I made Captain America cuss!”

Stella chuckles. “You’re ridiculous. Hand me my pants, I’m taking a nap right here.”

Tony stands up and drops the pants on Stella’s face, who falls on her side dramatically. Tony laughs lowly at her teammate’s antics and walks over to grab up her tablets. “Well, I think I wore myself out, don’t know about you.” Stella grunts as she pulls her sweats back on clumsily. “Might go take a nap of my own.”

“If you’re still up when I wake up, I’ll volunteer you for Thora-consoling duty during the next episode of Korra,” Stella mumbles as she makes herself comfortable.

“OH God, fine I will actually sleep,” Tony shouts. “Slave driver. Geeze.” Laughing, Stella drifts off to sleep listening to Tony complain about something or other as she walks out of the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay more smut. Still more to come.


	3. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella is a strategist. A really good one.

They don’t talk about it afterwards. It becomes one of those taboo things, like how no one asks how many beds Thora and Jake go through when she goes off to visit him in the Netherlands or wherever he’s staring at the stars these days. Or how many cans of Cheez-Whiz Claire can devour after a particularly rough debriefing. Or what Nathaniel actually does when no one knows where he’s gone for days at a time. Or exactly what that glowing Petri dish contains next to the leftover take-out in Lucy’s lab. Whether or not Coulson is an android is an old topic, but Tony and Lucy still like to debate on it from time to time.

But somehow it becomes a routine. Every month or so, Tony will forget that she’s not a robot (unlike or like Agent Phyllis Coulson, depending on who won the last debate) and hide herself away for a couple of days. Jarvis has taken to alerting Captain Rogers rather than Mr. Potts first. Which everyone appreciates, really. If Pepper has some emergency with the corporation, it would certainly take a backseat to whatever crisis the Avengers would have to deal with. So Tony getting rest should be the team’s priority, Captain America’s priority. That’s how it appears to everyone at least.

And sometimes Stella forgets that she still has people she can talk to, maybe not the same people she had before but dependable teammates nonetheless. She loses her peripheral vision and hones in on a stinging anger and feelings of inadequacy. So she’ll hide in one of the training rooms and try to wear herself out. The serum keeps her body from weakening, but her mind does get fuzzy eventually from the lack of sleep. Tony-who is far more perceptive than people give her credit for-usually bursts in early on, and agitates her into some much more rewarding stress relief. No one else bothers Cap when she’s in one of her moods, and they continue this practice even after Tony starts interrupting her brooding. They just know that Tony pulls her out of it quickly, and they all enjoy having their bossy, level-headed, dry-humored leader back.

All they think (or let on that they think) is that Stella and Tony are able to get under each other’s skin in ways none of the other Avengers can, and they use this to bug each other into regaining their common sense. And they think it’s a great idea; both women can be frustrating to deal with at times, if they’re dealing with each other it saves everyone else’s sanity. No one acts like they’re aware of just how the two heroines are getting each other to sleep.

To Tony and Stella, that’s nothing short of a blessing.

“Put the mug down.”

“What, I can’t even enjoy a cup of coffee in my own house anymore without being accosted?”

Stella crosses her arms as she stands in front of the most beloved piece of equipment in the mansion. “Are you actually planning on going to that meeting?”

Tony shrugs disinterestedly. “Pepper said it was important.”

Sighing, Stella looks her over. She’s leaning back onto the opposite counter, holding herself up discreetly with her elbows. One hand loosely grips the empty coffee cup, the other dangles limply from her wrist. Her feet are shoved into dull black heels, her legs are bare of stockings or socks. Her dark red blouse is unbuttoned over a black camisole. Her makeup is impeccable of course, but it can’t hide how tired she is.

“Almost four days,” Stella growls as she crowds Tony against the counter. Tony makes an exasperated noise but puts the cup down nonetheless. “Tony, this isn’t healthy.”

She sighs and slumps back against the tile countertop. “Oh shoosh. Like throwing yourself into the gullet of a giant spider snake thingy is healthy.” Tony puts her hands up in surrender to stem off the ensuing lecture. “No, I know-I know. Combat situation, civilians at risk, yaddah yaddah, I get it Cap.”

“I don’t think you do, considering how you completely disregard what I tell you on the field and off.”

“Look, I think on my feet and occasionally forget to tell you guys all of my plans. My bad!”

“Yes, your bad. I almost had a heart attack when you used yourself as bait for that technology-eating worm monster. Even if it was just to give Hawkeye the perfect shot.” Stella takes a wrist in each hand, leaning forward a millimeter closer. “You’ll be the death of me, Antonia Elizabeth Stark.”

“Oooh, use of the full name,” Tony mumbles. “I must have made Mom mad.”

“If that gets you hot Stark, I’m not sure I’ll be able to ‘help’ you.”

Tony’s eyebrows quirk up at the emphasis on the word ‘help.’ “In the kitchen? That’s pretty bold, even for you Cap.”

“Sometimes, I think you forget that the serum enhanced my brain too, which was pretty sharp to begin with.” Stella grabs her up, placing her none too gently on the counter. “I’m not just some pretty dame with a good left hook. And when one of my friends lets me in on an effective measure to get her to actually rest like a normal person, it’s not below me to take full advantage of that weakness.”

“Uh-J-Jarvis-“ Tony stutters as Stella pulls her knees open. “Doors, shades-the works please.”

“So thorough,” Stella chuckles as she leans in close. “Don’t worry, Lucy told me where to find you. She said something about warning the others away for a bit.”

“Still, better safe than sorry,” Tony gasps as she feels strong fingers pulling her skirt up. “Oh god I am so glad you know my kryptonite.”

“For the sake of expedition, I’m going to pretend that I know what that means.” Stella pointedly kisses Tony’s throat, moving lower to nip at her shoulder.

Tony helpfully removes her button-up. “Can’t fool me, Superwoman was around in the forties.”

“You talk too much,” Stella mutters into her skin, then pauses her hands and leans away slightly. “Really, Tony?”

“Hey, panty-lines piss me off. I had no idea you’d jump me when I came in for caffeine,” Tony exclaims. Stella just huffs a breath and strokes two fingers lightly down her already wet lips. “This is just a-ahh, pleasant surprise.”

“Geeze, you’re already so-“

“I’m easily excited. It’s a blessing and a curse.” Tony keeps talking, but it’s mostly half-finished words and loud moans. Stella continues her teasing strokes for a while, mouthing a mark into the tensed muscles of Tony’s shoulder.

“Is shaving down here common these days?”

“What? Uh, more cah-common than back in your day I’ll bet, I don’t really-oh, God!” The super soldier takes this as a “get on with it,” and decides to indulge her. Tony shudders silently as Stella slides a finger slowly inside. Despite how Tony grinds her hips, trying to find some sort of friction, Stella pumps in and out of her excruciatingly slowly. Gripping the blond’s bicep, Tony whispers, “Goddamn it, Rogers, more!”

“My, you’re bossy,” she retorts, but she adds another finger, still keeping up her agonizingly slow pace. Tony’s warm and deliciously wet, Stella notes, as her walls squeeze down on Stella’s fingers. She can smell her teammate’s arousal, it makes her mouth water and her knees quiver. She leans back a bit, completely engrossed in watching Tony come undone. Her hips are making little circles as her body searches for some sort of give. The little noises slipping from her mouth are getting higher in pitch. Stella takes some pity on her, suddenly increasing her pace and running her thumb over her clit swiftly. Tony arches backwards instantly, shouting.

“Stella-“ she whines. Stella repeats the motion, lingering a bit. Tony’s hips push forward, her hands grapple for a grip on the counter-top.

“Come on Tony, let it go,” Stella murmurs into the air between them. She pushes a third finger in, thumb bearing down on the most sensitive part of her. With a cry, Tony curls forward and digs her fingers-blunt, scarred, perfectly manicured fingers-into Stella’s shoulders. Her hips are frozen as Stella fingers her steadily. Finally, all her muscles relax and she slumps against Stella’s chest.

“Frfckmmnngs.”

“I’m sorry?”

Tony raises her head from Stella’s bosom long enough to say, “Fuck meetings,’’ before returning to her previous position.

“For once,” Stella says while pulling her fingers away carefully, “we are in complete agreement.”


	4. Pineapple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stella take some time to converse with their teammates, and then there's fruit.

Tony taps her fingers on the counter top as she waits for her coffee to finish brewing. It’s only her third cup of the day, and she’s been up since noon. She looks out the window to see the sun dragging long shadows across the lawn. Sighing, she notes that hey, maybe Cap had something with all this “sleeping regularly is good for you” girl scout bullshit. Also, getting laid on a semi-regular basis satisfactorily probably helps too. Not that she’ll ever tell Cap that she was right, oh no. That would be admitting defeat, or admitting that maybe each time they “sedate” each other, she secretly hopes someone will walk in on them or hear them so they’re forced finally to deal with what’s been happening and have an honest talk about boundaries and expectations and really Tony did not think she would ever be wanting-or needing-to talk about these sorts of things with Captain fucking America for crying out loud-

“Not that I have trouble with it, but you’re especially easy to sneak up on these days.” Tony nearly jumps out of her skin as she whirls around to find Claire hanging from the dish rack over the island. She flips over and lands with a loud TWHAP of her bare feet on the ground. Walking over and ignoring the way Tony’s still staggering and clutching at the reactor, she continues. “So, what’s going on? Cap say something to make you all broody and mommy-issue-y again?”

“Why the fuck were you on the dish rack?”

“I was in the ceiling, until about two minutes ago. Seriously, what’s up?” she asks before taking a huge bite out of an apple.

“Are you eating something that’s not processed or salted and deep-fried?” Tony asks in shock, and in an attempt to divert attention.

Claire shrugs lazily, her face a perfect mask of cool boredom. “Lucy says my eating habits are concerning.”

“They really are. Jarvis warns me that we’re going to wake up one day and you’ll just be a packet of ramen noodles with a bow and arrow.” Tony reaches over for the fresh pot of coffee, the smell hitting her nostrils like the sweetest perfume of a favorite lover. Not that Cap ever wears perfume, she just smells like soap and something undeniably sweet. Shampoo? Tony makes a note to figure out what brand Stella uses. Whoa, what are these thoughts?

Smiling crookedly Claire says, “Aw! Creepy robot lady cares about me!” dragging Tony out of her inner monologue.

Jarvis chooses not to respond, the bitch. Tony’s left to deal with distracting Claire alone. She pours herself a cup as she hopefully makes Claire forget her original question. “So you’re actually taking the good doctor’s advice?”

Claire slips her poker face back on. The obvious way she has to control her expression makes Tony pay closer attention. “Well, she said if I wanted to sleep with her again I’d have to stop eating like a starved grad student.” Oh.

“Oooh.”

“Mm. Look, don’t make a big deal of it. She’ll get tired of me soon enough and it’ll be just a hilarious Avengers anecdote someday. ‘Remember that week Lucy and Claire dated? What a disaster resulting in hundreds of thousands in property damage that was!’ we’ll say.” She viciously tears a chunk out of the innocent apple. Tony watches her with concern creasing her brow. Claire stares at the opposite wall as she chews. After a silent moment she says, “You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep that up.”

Tony clears her throat. “Look, I’m the least credible person when I tell you this, but maybe you need to talk with Lucy. About your, y’know…” she waggles her fingers, “relationship dealy.”

“She said we were on a trial basis,” Claire mumbles miserably.

Tony smiles and bumps her shoulder into Claire’s as she walks past. “That’s a good sign. Lucy doesn’t take anything to trial unless she thinks it has a good chance at succeeding. Give her some time, you can imagine how often she finds herself with a date these days.” Claire makes a little motion with her head, supposedly agreeing with Tony’s assessment. “I’ll be in the workshop if anyone needs me. But please don’t need me, I’m pretty close to finishing this thing Fury’s been breathing down my neck about and I’d like-“

“So what did Stella say?” Claire asks, tossing the apple core into the trashcan. “That set you off so badly?”

Tony stops walking abruptly, coffee sloshing out of her cup to sting on her hand. She flinches and curses. Claire appears beside her with a paper towel in hand, her lips quirking up. “Uh. Nothing. Just haven’t had enough coffee today. Which I’m remedying right now.”

“Mhm. Say, how do you get her to go to sleep after our shit missions? Nate and I have a bet going.”

“I talk her to sleep. Really, I just ramble about whatever fascinating, ground-breaking, world-of-science changing thing Lucy and I worked on last and she just nods right off,” Tony says with practiced ease. “It’s not unlike dealing with a child, y’know. Later Barton.” She slips away and into the elevator a little too quickly. Claire stares after her, pieces falling into place in her mind. She smiles confidently. She is totally going to win this bet.

\----

Thora scratches her chin as she and Stella sit next to each other on the couch. The living room lights are dimmed and they’re watching one of Nathaniel’s recommended movies. Neither is sure exactly what’s going on, and they both regret not having the superspy there to explain things.

“May I presume that since Banner is not present, her ‘no talking during movies’ rule is abdicated?” Thora asks in a quiet rumble.

Stella smiles. “Sure. Fire away, Goldilocks.”

“I have been pondering something of late. You and Stark both on occasion forget how essential rest is to the warrior. And you are the only ones able to remind each other of this fact. What I mean to ask is; how are you able to get Stark to rest?”

Stella doesn’t wince, but it’s a close thing. “Well. I just. Talk to her. I suppose.”

“Hm.” Thora watches the Captain, who carefully stares straight at the television. After a tense minute, she turns back to the screen as well. “You know,” she starts carefully, “I will never grasp the Midgardian tendency to be silent about relationships. Regardless of their nature.”

“Well,” Stella says squeakily, “I can’t grasp what a relationship means these days, so it’s kind of hard to talk about them at all.” A pause drags on between them until Stella ends it by saying good-naturedly, “Guess this means we’re on even ground, huh?”

Thora cracks a grin, shoving the woman beside her lightly. “Verily!” Stella smiles back, giving Thora a shove back. Which Thora returns with a laugh. Nate comes up eventually, having to break their grappling match up before they ruin yet another couch. They end up starting the movie over, and it’s improved greatly by Nathaniel’s ever-patient presence. 

\----

Stella manages to avoid Tony for a few days, which is a feat in and of itself. Especially when how hard Tony’s been trying to find her when she has free time is factored into this equation. But Stella finds herself unable to respond to any of Tony’s attempts to communicate with her. She takes longer runs than usual, circling most of Manhatten while she’s sure Tony is getting ready to deal with Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D. in the mornings. She hangs back when Coulson dismisses her from their meetings in the evening, knowing Tony will most likely be socializing with everyone over their dinner. Stella makes friends with the guys in the diner down the block from the Avengers’ mansion.

One night though (almost a week since their most recent…is rendezvous the right word? She has no idea) Stella’s about to dig into a massive plate of fried flounder, scallops, and a baked potato the size of her foot, when she sees Tony walk purposefully through the door. It’s a testament to the serum that she doesn’t drop her fork as she watches the Iron Avenger-as the tabloids like to call her-stride quickly to her booth and sit down with a squeak of the worn leather seat.

“We uh. We need to talk,” Tony says. “About what’s been going on.”

“Another mission?” Stella asks, even as she hears some part of her brain screaming at her that well of course it isn’t about a mission, Tony never talks about missions or their failings. She just shuts herself up in her workshop until she figures out some remedy for their shortcoming. Whether or not she was to blame in the first place.

Tony frowns at her for a split second, before schooling her face back into her usual devil-may-care expression. That mask falls away too, leaving her bare and vulnerable. “No. No, dammit Stella.” She rakes a hand through her hair, ruining whatever styling had gone into its shaping. “You aren’t this clueless. Don’t you dare pull this shit with me. Not when I’m actually y’know. Trying to talk about…things.” She waves her hand vaguely between them. “Look, you’ve been avoiding me, I get it. What I want to know is why?” Stella doesn’t answer at first, looking down at her rapidly cooling meal. Tony just keeps talking. “I mean, I get it. I really do. You helped me out, I helped you out; we’re just scratching each others’ back at this point. It doesn’t have to mean anything else.” Stella’s gut twists at Tony’s words, but she can’t bring herself to say anything. “But we never discuss anything at all. No consent discussions, no boundaries, no safe words-“

“I wanted it,” Stella finally bursts.

Tony stares at her, expression unreadable. She opens her mouth, about to say something, when the ground rumbles underneath them. Stella’s on her feet before she can even register it; Tony’s hand is in her coat pocket, hitting the alert button on her cell phone to open communications with JARVIS.  
Stella has never been so happy to see a twenty foot tall pineapple rolling down 7th Avenue.

\----

Hours later, the team regroups in the entrance-way to the mansion. It was a spectacularly terrible fight. Agent Coulson is probably in the main control room, arguing with Jarvis at this very moment, convincing the AI not to order anything fruit-like in nature for the kitchen for at least the next month.

Stella just looks them over, every one of them slumped and covered in juice and bits of pulp. “Okay guys,” she begins weakly, leaning against the unyielding strength of the Iron Woman suit. “That uh. Nothing went according to plan. And I smell entirely too much like fruit punch to yell at you today. Shower, rest, recover. I’ll get Coulson here in the morning to debrief us, around 09:00 hours. Sound good?”

The rest of the Avengers groan their approval of this plan and move off to their rooms (complete with private bathrooms, Stark did not skimp out let it be known). Stella continues leaning on Iron Woman as they make their way down the hallway, well behind their teammates. “All right Cap?” Tony asks through the suit, voice tinny but armored hands gentle on Stella’s side.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Couple of apples the size of houses can’t knock me down for long,” she says with a cocky grin. The face plate glowers down at her unchangingly.

“Heh,” the suit huffs. “All right.”

Stella waits a moment before asking, “You?”

“Mm? I’m fine. Still need to redo the cushioning in this model, so I’ll have a few bruises but nothing I can’t get over.”

“Bruises?”

“Yeah,” Tony says as Jarvis opens the elevator for them silently. “Built this model mostly for power, after making the briefcase armor and it was so light and weak. Forgot to figure in kick-back with some of the repulsors. Haven’t gotten around to fixing it.”

Stella bites back several demands that Tony do that ASAP, considering how much the team counts on her, and instead groans as they both lean back into the cool metal of the west elevator. “I don’t have much to complain about. A few hours and I’ll be fine.”

“Trust me,” Tony moans, flipping up the face plate. “No one in the building is not jealous of that fact. Except maybe Thora. Damn can she take a-mmf!” Tony finds herself silenced by Stella’s lips on hers. Servos whir as she leans forward, letting Cap wrap her arms around her neck and pull her into a more amenable angle. Stella’s lips push insistently against Tony’s mouth, inexperienced and eager and holy hell if it doesn’t turn her on like a light switch. Tony chokes back an utterly embarrassing noise when Stella pulls away.

“Look, I know we usually wait a bit after a mission, but I really-“

“Oh God, me too. Seriously, where did the kiwis even come from-“

“I don’t know, I was too busy fighting the oranges. Good, um, that we agree. Where should we-“

“Shit, the armor, I need to go to the workshop-“

“I’ll follow,” Stella says breathlessly. The elevator pings at them suddenly, and they hobble swiftly out. Jarvis-for once assisting Tony’s less noble needs without prompting-has prepared the disassembly station already. Stella tries not to think about just how much of their lives Jarvis witnesses as she lets go of Tony. Mechanical arms swivel out from the raised base that Tony steps onto. Hex bits and clamps sprout from the arms, and pieces of the armor start falling back to reveal delicate circuitry and eventually olive-toned flesh. Bruised flesh.

“It’ll take just a minute-ahah!” Tony shouts as Stella plants a sucking kiss on her exposed thigh. “Rogers-“

“Just tell me if this isn’t okay, all right? You said something about safe words-“

“Pineapple. Jesus Christ on a cracker, pineapple is the safe word,” Tony says quickly. “Okay? And really, I’m okay with pretty much anything that scary brilliant head of yours can come up with.”

“Yeah,” Stella answers, before placing a light kiss on a dark mauve bruise on Tony’s knee. “Okay Tony.”

“Ah, wait, stand back a moment.” Stella complies wordlessly, watching as the base Tony stands on separates and loops over her head. The super soldier takes the time to pull her thick gloves off and undo the hooks on her uniform. Her shoulder length blond hair is damp with sweat and curls wildly. Tony makes a pained noise as the robotic arms move to the chest piece. “You have no idea how you look right now, but let me just say you look extremely fuckable. More so than usual, even.”

Stella chuckles as she removes her belt and works on the unnecessarily complicated buttons keeping the top and bottom of her outfit attached. She tries to return the compliment, but as she watches more and more of Tony’s body revealed by the quiet machinery, she finds the teasing words get caught in her throat. Tony had just stripped out of her short skirt when she’d gotten back to the mansion and jumped in the armor, which really hadn’t helped at all with the cushioning issue.  
Her lean legs are dotted with darkening bruises, and Stella finds them more alluring than any sort of hose or stocking could ever manage. Of course Tony would be in too much of a hurry to go join the fight to bother putting on pants. And Tony would never really get upset over the bruises, at least not unless she was being silly and overdramatic. It was just part of putting on the armor, and she probably blamed herself more for the suit’s imperfections than for it bruising her. Stella tears her eyes away and hurriedly tugs the zipper open on her top.

Tony’s grateful that Stella’s not looking at her as the boots are undone and she stumbles as she steps out of the machine. Her legs ache, and she knows she probably looks like a bruised apple (oh God no, not an apple, not any kind of fruit. Seriously, worst amateur sorcerer’s spell gone wrong ever) but she doesn’t dwell on it. She loses her train of thought as she watches Captain America’s uniform fall off Stella’s arms, revealing the bright blue undershirt and Stella’s ample bosom barely contained by the stretchy material.

“You don’t wear a bra under the uniform?” she asks in honest curiosity.

“Hm? Uh, no. The top’s tight enough; it keeps me in place pretty well. Besides, bras throw me off. Can’t get used to them. I never really needed one until after the serum.”

“Huh,” Tony says thoughtfully. She reaches forward, cupping the warm weight of Stella’s breasts in her hands. She carefully brushes a thumb over a pert nipple, grinning at the way Stella breathes in sharply and arches into her touch. She ducks her head, ignoring the way her name is called out in admonishment. She sucks at the underside of one breast, kneading the other. Stella digs a hand into Tony’s hair, pulling lightly at her hair. Tony moans appreciatively, moving up to tongue at her nipple forcefully.

“Ah, Tony-“ Stella gasps out, “Tony, please, I can’t stand up for this one.”

“Mm, yeah,” Tony says sadly as she backs off. The blue material of Stella’s shirt is dark with Tony’s saliva, her eyelids are heavy and her face is flushed. A light pink mark mars the side of Stella’s face, dried blood on her cheek making Tony clench her jaw angrily. She walks over to a nearby sink, grabbing a relatively clean rag and getting it damp. She turns around to find Stella followed her. She smiles as she pats her own cheek. “You’re a little bloodied up there, Cap. It kind of adds to your whole battered soldier appeal but I really would rather not taste it, y’know?”

Stella looks at her thoughtfully as Tony gently washes her face off. “Planning on kissing me tonight then?”

Tony pauses in her ministrations. “Have…for fuck’s sake, I haven’t kissed you yet?”

Stella grins as she answers, “No. I kissed you in the elevator-“

“I know, I just-I mean since you initiated it so-“

“Which is something I’ve been dying to do for a while-“

“Well, what’s stopping you now Cap?” Tony challenges, tossing the rag in a bin with other dirty towels.

“At this point? The need to not be standing for a while.” Stella drags a rough thumb across Tony’s bottom lip slowly before turning on her heel and heading for the couch. Tony’s mouth feels far too cold where Stella had just been touching her, and she really could use some warmth right now.

Tony realizes, as Stella writhes out her orgasm under the genius’s quick fingers and quicker tongue, that this thing they’re doing can’t keep going. They’d gotten distracted from their conversation earlier, and it would need to happen, soon. She also realizes, as Stella maneuvers her onto her back and shyly nips at her throat and chest and works her steady, strong, wonderfully calloused fingers into her and makes her come apart at the seams with just a few strokes-that there was a reason she never let them finish each other off at the same time before. She always took off after one of them was done and she finally figured out why she did.  
She rocks her hips down, watches Stella’s sharp blue eyes watching her with arousal making her eyelids heavy and her cheeks pink. As she pulls Stella up for a long kiss, she feels the weight of her realization sinking in her stomach.

This feels too intimate. They’re not lovers. They’re not even dating. They’re fucking around. But at times like this, with Stella tucked beside her on the familiar comfort of the couch all sweaty and pliant, it’s not hard to pretend otherwise.

Tony can’t deal with how that thought makes her feel. So she complains loudly of being squished and laughs her way to her shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have for this story. I had another ending where they have a long meaningful talk and there was honesty and feeeeeelings and it just didn't jive with my headcanon for fem!Tony. I want to write more on this story, and get to the Claire/Lucy stuff I've got running around in my head, but my focus isn't with this story right now.
> 
> There will be more. Someday. Thanks for reading, commenting, etc! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This was literally me being frustrated at the lack of lesbian porn in this fandom and going "WELP IMMA RULE 63 THIS BITCH AND FIX THAT." And then it kept. Going.


End file.
